An Eighth Shot of Espresso: Coffee and Creativity on Mum's Third Shift

clenched fists a hero's pose  as they are put  into dire straits  a realization  that the world  is in peril  yet again  that flash  of determination  roll up the sleeves  and do what  heroes always do not for the praise not for the fame but because it is always the right thing to do

Words on paper  recently dug up  from the depths  of the desk drawer  it's been ten years  since it has seen  the light of day  characters frozen in time and on stage  mid-sentence the plot unresolved original manuscript  unpublished  maybe a novel  someday

The fiend  the enemy  always with the  long monologue  reveal the plan  to take over  the whole world  give them the  courtesy  because plot armor  is expected  for that speech  so the hero just waits until they are done

When good events happen  it’s good to celebrate them  life is not easy but there are the little moments.  So why is it  such a sin  to be happy for them? Why can't we share it?  Why is it so satisfying  to put down the joy  and mock the ones  who even mention it? Because jealousy is rife and modesty is the rule existence is a drudgery until the very end? That is a cynical way to live if you want to be miserable don't bring the rest of us down.

A distant memory  though the passage of time  has not been long at all  Grasp at details  muddied by events  between now and then  Names dissolve into disjointed mist and I cannot spell those. Sensations fade  even as I try my hardest  to remember them.

She was a baby  days become years it all passes by all too quickly  tea times with her plushies all drunk and spring dresses no longer fit her now she is almost  a full woman grown  and I must learn  how to let go  the first and last one  to go out into this  vast vast world